Resident Evil: Novel
by Sand Lawn
Summary: Chapter 6 is up. Thanks to Prisonerksc2-303 for pointing out the oddity of several police officers drinking and driving. Made me edit chapter 3 Designated Chris. Not enough edit to make anyone need to reread. Probably 2 or 3 more chapters til mansion
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

The pain was brief, but intense. The good doctor removed the syringe and watched the stream of blood trickle down his patient's arm. Both waited in anticipation for several seconds before the patient finally interrupted the silence.

"Well, how much longer," he said calmly with a hint of impatience.

"I don't know. It might already be working. It might take a few days. There's a chance it may even need a trigger of some sort; a type of catalyst. It might be dormant. This one's different than the others. But your guardian angel recommended it. I don't think we should disappoint him."

The patient stood up and walked to the window at the other side of the small laboratory. He looked out at the surrounding forest of the Arklay Mountains. The doctor could not tell whether he was simply surveying it or casting a grim judgment on its inhabitants. He rubbed his hands along the window frame, perceiving it with his hand rather than his eyes. It was no wonder most of their colleagues assumed he was blind. No matter how many years the two had known each other, the man never ceased to unnerve the doctor. He needed to break the silence.

"So how when will the test begin?"

"Soon. Everything is on schedule. They really are quite perfect. I wish you could see them before their caught in our little spider web"

The doctor was doubtful. "What about your Judas? What's his name?"

The patient walked past a table, dragging across his hand: his antennae. "I have not arranged that yet."

"What?" the doctor said angry and surprised. "If he doesn't play ball, the entire test will be ruined. You know how important..."

"It is not wise to spring a trap early. If I had already informed him of our plan, he would have too much time to react. He might kill himself, or worse. No, I will not tell him until the night."

A small tube caught the man's eye. He walked over to the table. There was a small vial labeled G. "Is this what I think it is?"

"No," said the doctor, "but it will be soon."

"I can't wait to see how that turns out."

"It will work fine," the doctor said, storing the vial in a safe place. "I am more concerned with you screwing up this multi-million dollar test. Do not fuck this up."

The patient turned, a smirk appeared across the usually stone face. "Oh don't trouble yourself, William. You've known me long enough to realize I don't make mistakes. Everything will work exactly as I have planned. You'll see."

Chapter 1

Chris Redfield steadied his hand and focused his eyes on the target standing twenty yards away. The customized Beretta 92FS, otherwise known as the Samurai Edge, was lighter than most guns he had used. This caused him problems with aiming he never had in his military days. But he would have to ignore these inconveniences. He needed a perfect score. He held his breath and pulled the trigger.

Six shots were fired and all six hit bull's-eye. Perfect score! He had to have beaten Kenneth's record.

"Well done," said a familiar voice. "Your aim is admirable. Unfortunately, you have failed to make a perfect score."

Chris's joy instantly vanished. "What?"

Albert Wesker walked down the stairs from the observation room to the shooting range. "I commend you, but this is not the Raccoon Police Department. This is S. T. A. R. S. We are more elite than S. W. A. T. Your job will be to stop terrorists, not junkies. Terrorists can afford and will use bullet-proof vests. Torso shots are unacceptable.

_Damn!_ After all this time, Chris realized he would not be accepted into S. T. A. R. S. Joining the Special Tactics and Rescue Service had been his goal ever since Mayor Michael Warren had requested its formation. He had yet to find his niche. The Air Force's policies were not flexible enough and the police force wanted him working offices. Chris needed to get back in the field and S. T. A. R. S. seemed like the perfect opportunity. But now that hope was lost. He saluted Wesker and prepared to store his weapon.

"Where are you going, Chris."

"Stowing my weapon and reporting back to the station, sir!"

Wesker grinned, "No need son. I'll have Burton report to them for you. Your aim is excellent. You just need to learn your targets."

Hope returned to Chris. "You mean I made the team."

Wesker was amused by the optimism of his new recruit. "Made the team? Why you're going to be the Point-Man; the marksman. No one else is that good of a shot. Just remember to shoot for the head."

Chris saluted his new captain. No other officer had ever made him this happy. Wesker was indeed a great man. He was middle aged but in better condition than most young men on the police force. His accuracy in the range was almost perfect: some even joked his few misses were made purposely. He was serious but kind. Everyone on the force loved him.

Almost everything about Wesker was easy to respect. He did, however, have two eccentricities. The first was that no one could place his accent. He was apparently local, but he sounded more like David Bowie's than small town Mid-Westerner. The second was his habit of wearing shades indoors. Most people on the force theorized that his eyes were too sensitive to the light. Burton claimed that was why his aim was so good. But this theory seemed false because every now and then he took off his glasses without any difficulties. He almost seemed naked without them. Quirks aside, Wesker was a man to be respected. Chris was proud to be hand-picked by him.

"You have the rest of the weekend off, Chris. I recommend you relax. Your file says you have a sister?"

"Yes sir."

"You should spend some time with her. Go see a movie or visit the park. You won't get many more weekends off. Consider this a welcoming gift from your new team captain. But before you go, feel free to visit the other members of your team. They should be in their offices. Now all we need is one more rear security expert and Alpha Team will be up and running."

"Thanks again sir."

"And Chris."

"Sir?"

Wesker gave another grin. "You show more promise than all other members of S. T. A. R. S. I look forward to serving with you."

"It's an honor."

"Now go meet everyone. I have to phone Mayor Warrens about my newest selection."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Chris walked down the narrow hallway that served as the S. T. A. R. S. base of operations. The first office on the left belonged to Barry Burton, the Alpha Team Weapon Specialist. Barry was gone. Through the window Chris could see a picture of Barry's wife Kathy and his two daughters. He loved those three more than anyone else on earth.

Chris had known Barry for years. He was already a veteran in the Air Force by the time they met. It was during this time that Chris discovered Barry's love for guns. He was an expert in automatic rifles, shotguns, and even R. P. Gs. But what Barry loved most were pistols. They were his second family, and his favorite son was the Anaconda Magnum: a gun bigger than most men's arm. It was nicknamed the Handcannon, and it earned its mantra. Once, Barry invited Chris to his house to shoot at a broken toilet in the yard. They had planned to take turns, but it only took Barry one shot to reduce the porcelain to nothing more than a few shards and a smoke of clay ash.

Chris continued down the whole. He passed Wesker's office and Bravo Team Leader Enrico Marini. Marini was also absent. Chris remembered he had to examine a potential recruit. There were rumors that the new recruit was an eighteen-year-old fresh out of college. A rookie straight of college seemed like enough of a joke, but an eighteen-year-old joining S. T. A. R. S. seemed ridiculous. No one would be stupid enough to make that call.

Chris heard a sudden movement of footsteps. He turned around to see Richard Aiken and Kenneth Sullivan entering from a door near the shooting range entrance. Both had smiles a mile wide.

"You almost beat my record."

"Next time Sully."

"Don't count on," Sullivan laughed. "Welcome aboard, man.

Chris reached to shake their hands, but Aiken gave him a high-five and said, "Don't be so serious. You're off duty right now. Gotta lighten up."

Sullivan and Aiken were quite a pair. The two were partners on the police force before being recommended by Barry for their current jobs. Aiken, Communications Expert, was a skinny young man of Irish descent. His horrible dancing skills were infamous on the force. He was, however, a very charming guy. Chris new few people with as much empathy as Aiken.

Sullivan was the only African American currently working for S. T. A. R. S.; a fact he joked about often. Chris new him better than anyone other than Barry. He was both strong and intelligent. His chemistry skills even earned him a special position as Field Scout and Hazardous Environments Expert. He did, however, have real doubts about his position. Biological weapons were not a prevalent threat in the Arklay Mountains. He wondered why Barry even gave him the recommendation. But his new job was much more prestigious so why complain.

Chris suddenly realized something new. "I just finished being reviewed. How did you both know about my score anyway?

"Think Wesker was the only one watching you," Sullivan said with another laugh. "The range is rigged with cameras, man. Hell, Wesker gave us the thumbs up as soon as you were finished. You were the last one to know you made the cut."

"Congratulations Point-Man Redfield," said Aiken with a mock salute.

"Thanks Aiken," said Chris returning the gesture. " But, you guys are all Bravo Team members. Where's the rest of Alpha Team?"

"You just missed your Vehicle Specialist, Joseph Frost," said Aiken. "He's helping your pilot, Brad Vickers, with the choppers. Ours has been having trouble in the test runs. Two brand new helicopters donated by Umbrella Corp. and they're already breaking down. Do they only expect us to use them once or something?"

"Barry went to see Irons," said Sullivan. "He's getting everything sorted out with you." Marini's testing a Field Medic. I heard she's eighteen."

"That has to be bull," said Aiken.

"Well, I got to be honest guys," interrupted Chris changing the subject. "When Wesker told me to go meet the team, I thought I'd get some kind of welcoming party."

"Busy, busy, busy bees," said Aiken.

"Don't worry," said Sullivan, "we've got a party planned for tonight. Everybody's getting going out for a drink, and there's only one catch."

"Oh, God. Let me guess."

Both Sullivan and Aiken smiled. "Drinks are on you."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Chris was sitting at the bar in Harry's Pub next to his best friend Barry. The older man was obviously a little drunk. This was no surprise after the amount of Daniels he had put down at the recent party. Chris had been counting the rising tab nervously with each swig. Chris had refused to drink himself because it would make getting home a pain and the large dent in his starting bonus did not need any help. But he loved Barry enough to let him have one more and was happy to see his smile. Besides, everyone else had already left.

"Thanks Barry. This has been a hell of a night."

"Congratulations," Barry said chugging back a bottle of beer. "I can't think of anyone I'd rather have on Point than you. I also can't think of anyone I'd rather have drive me home than you. I hate late night taxi rides. Drivers are always pissed they're up late even though it's their damn job."

Chris laughed. He had finally found his niche. S. T. A. R. S. was a motley group, but a fun one at that. For the last three hours he had traded stories with everyone from Frost the Bandit, nicknamed for his bandanna, to the Bravo Team pilots Edward Dewey and Kevin Dooley. The only people missing had been Marini and Wesker. Chris had wished he could talk more with them. He had never met Marini, and Wesker was a local legend.

"I'm gonna throw you a bone tonight," said Barry interrupting Chris's thoughts. "Now we honest to God thought you'd be splitting the tab with the new Field Medic. But turns out she really is eighteen."

"Damn," said Chris. An eighteen-year-old serving with S. T. A. R. S. She had to be good. She had to be the best in the state to even be considered. "What's her name?"

"Rebecca Chambers. She ain't official or anything yet. Might not ever be. Marini's still not happy with the age problem. It's probably why they weren't here. I'm guessing it'll be least a month before this whole thing gets squared away. Anyway, I'm gonna pay for half the drinks. You owe me though."

"Sure." Chris chuckled to himself. He knew Barry did not really expect to be paid back. He probably wouldn't accept the money if Chris offered it. "How's Aiken by the way."

"You'd think a boy that Irish could hold more alcohol," laughed Barry. "No one but me and him had more than two drinks and he was drunk as can be by number three. That's real sad. All he had was beer. Oh well. He'll be fine by tomorrow. Damn lucky we're out of action with all the missing positions. He'll have a hell of a hangover, but he won't have a gun. Ah. Anyway what'd you think of the rest of the team?"

"Frost is a cool guy. He's a bit loud, though."

"Yeah, but you learn to love it. If you think Aiken and Sully are funny, just wait until Horror Movie Wednesday with Frost. No matter how scary the movie is, he'll make the whole thing a joke before the opening credits are finished. What you think of the flyboys?"

Chris thought for a second. "Dewey and Dooley were great. Did you know they were military boys too?"

"Yep. Double-D, we call them. Good fellows."

"I didn't get much of a chance to speak with Vickers."

"He's a shy kid," said Barry. "We call him Chickenheart because of it. But give him a chance. He might surprise you. He's got a good head on his shoulders. Now I have something important to ask you."

"Shoot"

Barry leaned in for confidentiality, "Wesker and I are reviewing a candidate for Alpha Team's Rear Security tomorrow. I know you're a rookie yourself, but we're all pretty damn new. S. T. A. R. S. has only been around a couple of months. I was thinking, maybe, you could help us review the recruit. You know, peer feedback and all."

"I don't know," said Chris, "I have tomorrow off. I was planning to spend it with Claire." said Chris.

"Is she any better?"

Chris thought of how hard the last year had been on the two of them. Claire was two months away from attending her first year of college. She should have already been in her second, but college was put on hold when their parents were killed in a car wreck. It was this tragedy that finalized Chris's decision to abandon the military. Comforting his sister was more important, and so was his own time to mourn.

"Yeah," Chris finally spoke, "she's doing better."

"Hey, all I'm asking is you watch the range tests," said Barry. "It'll take an hour at most."

Chris sighed. "What's his name?"

"It's a she. Jill Valentine, twenty-four-years-old. I've seen her in action. She's on the Raccoon City Bomb Squad. She's great with advanced security systems. Hell, she's even good with picking locks the old fashioned way. She's a damn master of unlockin'."

"Go easy on the drinks, Barry."

"Sorry. But look. I've never seen her shoot a gun. I mean, she's obviously pretty good if she's caught Wesker's eye. But we might already have a fresh Field Medic and I don't want anything else slowing us down. So what you think? You interested?"

"You sure others won't take this as favoritism?" asked Chris.

Barry hadn't thought about that. He rubbed his hands across the surface of the bar: a nervous twitch he developed after someone accidentally detonated a plastic explosive near him during the Gulf War. Barry had to make sure the world wasn't rocking under him. "Sullivan will be there too. And I bet you've already heard about our cameras. Don't worry. It'll be Wesker and Marini that make the call. You, me, and Sully are just there for feedback."

"Well," said Chris in resignation, "why not?"


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Chris pulled into his driveway at 2 o'clock A. M. He opened the door carefully. The last thing he wanted to do was wake up Claire. He crept through the living room on his way to the stairway, but before he got to the first step the room illuminated. Chris turned to see an angry Claire sitting on the couch. "Where the hell have you been?"

"Hey watch your language."

"Don't give me that crap. Where have you been? You get off at seven on Fridays."

"Oh crap. Sorry, I never came back to tell you. I got a promotion."

"What?" said Claire.

"A promotion," repeated Chris. You know: better job, more money. I would go out and buy you some new clothes, but my team spent my starting bonus on drinks."

"You were out drinking?" yelled Claire. "I was waiting here for hours thinking you had been shot or stabbed and you were drinking. Why didn't you call?"

"I'm sorry. I forgot. But tomorrow, you and I are going to spend the whole day together. Well, after three anyway. I got to help Barry review someone else for S. T. A. R. S."

"You're on S. T. A. R. S.? Oh my, God. Why the hell did you join S. T. A. R. S.?"

"Come on Claire," said Chris. "You know we need the money. You're going to college in a month. We inherited some money but not enough to keep going like this."

"I know we need it, but that's not why you joined and you know it. You just want to work with Barry again. You want to relive the old days. You want to pretend things are like they were before Dad and Mom died.

"That's not true," Chris lied.

Claire began to cry. "You know it is. Ever since you heard Barry joined S. T. A. R. S., all you have talked about was the Air Force days. How everything was great. But have you stopped to think about what happens if you die. I don't want to have to get another phone call from the police."

The blow hit its mark. "I'm sorry. You're right," Chris admitted. I wasn't thinking about you or the money. All I've thought about was myself." Chris sat down on the couch beside her. She placed her head on his shoulder. "I love you Clair: more than anyone else in the whole wide world. I would never hurt you on purpose."

There was a long silence.

"Do you remember when we watched Dumbo?" Claire finally asked.

"Yes," Chris laughed quietly. "You cried during the Pink Elephant scene. Dad had to turn it off. Then he made us go to bed."

"He read to us," said Claire.

"Yeah. I can't remember what though."

"The Charlie Brown Christmas story."

Another laugh. "Oh yeah! I remember now. You always loved Snoopy and that tiny Christmas tree."

Claire wrapped her arms around Chris. "Do you believe in Heaven?"

"Of course."

"Do you really believe there in Heaven, Chris?"

There was a small pause. "Yes," Chris decided. And I know that's where Mom and Dad are."

There was another pause.

"Would you like me to read Charlie Brown?"

Claire gave her first laugh of the night. "It's June and I'm starting college next month. Don't you think it's an odd time for Charlie Brown's Christmas?"

"There's never an inappropriate time for Charlie Brown."

Claire gave another laugh. "I love you Chris. You're just like Dad."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"You look like shit."

"Thanks Barry," said Chris. "You're receding and old."

"Asshole," laughed Barry.

"Hey watch it," said Sullivan, "I'm older and balder than both of you."

Chris, Barry, and Sullivan were waiting in the observation room of the shooting range. Any minute from now the new recruit would begin her test. Chris still did not like the idea of reviewing members one day after joining. Chris thanked God the glass he was staring out of was a one-way mirror. It would have pissed him off if a new guy had been reviewing him. He did not want the new recruit to think he was some cocky asshole from day one. But Chris thought it over for a second and cheered himself up. This was still a team in its infancy. Maybe that was how all new organizations did things. Besides, he was point man. If he had to be reviewing something, it did make since that it was aim.

"So Barry, the new girl cute?" asked Sullivan.

"Your wife might not like you asking those kinds of questions," said Barry.

"Oh, I love my wife," said Sullivan, "I'm just looking out for my boy Chris here."

Barry laughed. "Good point. When's the last time you had a special someone Chris: two, three years?"

"Let's cut the crap," said Chris. "How much longer do you think it's going to be?"

As soon as Chris finished his sentence Wesker entered the room below. Behind him was a 5 ft. 5 brunette woman in perfect shape. She couldn't have been more than 110 lbs. Chris would not say it out loud for fear of more jeering, but she really was beautiful. Her eyes had a Greek look to them which made her seem more mature than the average twenty-four-year-old. Her hair was pinned behind her in a ponytail to make room for the earphones she would soon be wearing to drown out the sound of the gunfire.

"So this girl was in Delta Force?" asked Sullivan.

"Wait," said Chris, "I thought she had only worked security and the Bomb Squad. Why the hell do you need me to review someone on Delta Force? She obviously has the credentials."

"Oh come on Chris," said Barry. "Be happy you're here. I just wanted to get you used to your future duties as Point Man. Next time you stand here to review someone, conditions won't be as happy as just getting dragged up here on your days off. The last man to serve as Alpha Team's Rear Security had to quit because of medial complications. Same with the Point Man. Reviewing someone whose replacing a retiree isn't as bad as reviewing someone whose replacing a fallen buddy. I just wanted to see you work during one of the rare times when things aren't serious. Enjoy yourself."

"Alright," Chris said relaxing. "So anything else I should no about this girl."

"She's probably a better shot than both of us," said Sullivan.

"Oh damn it," said Chris.

Barry laughed. "Don't worry guys. I don't think she's that good. Besides, you guys have more professional close quarters training than she does. She ain't up for your jobs."

"Quiet down," said Sullivan. "The test is starting."

Wesker had given her a modified rifle and was telling her to wait for her targets. After the initial test with the rifle, she would be tested with a small automatic and finally the Samurai Edge. Valentine put on her headphones and adjusted herself to aim. Wesker climbed up the steps to the observation room and entered without saying a word. He put a finger in front of his lips to dissuade talking. A full three minutes passed without Wesker initiating the test. Chris remembered how he felt waiting for the targets to pop up. It was like waiting for a horror movie monster to jump out and scare you. Finally Wesker pressed the button and the targets arose.  
Valentine was fast. Her aim wasn't as good as that of Chris and Sullivan, but she was able to switch weapons when Wesker switched targets quicker than either of the two. Wesker loved good reaction time. She had also aimed almost exclusively for the head. Chris new Wesker would be impressed with this as well. Everyone in the room new Valentine was in before half of the automatic's clip was depleted. She might even beat Chris and Sullivan's scores. But something happened. The girl did not adjust properly when she picked up the Samurai Edge. Its modified weight threw her off. She missed the first shot completely. Even with the glasses obscuring his face, Chris could tell Wesker was displeased. Missed shots with the clumsy automatic were inevitable with even the best marksmen. If 80% of the bullets hit the target, Wesker counted it as a perfect score. But Wesker counted a missed pistol shot as a mortal sin and his grading methods emphasized this favoritism. Valentine readjusted and her aim improved. The target was relatively far away for pistol shots, so she aimed for the torso and hit the mark for the remaining five shots. She then placed her weapon and took off the headphones. Disappointment was clearly visible on her face.

Wesker sat silently for a few moments. His mood had been ruined. "Well, what do you three think?" he finally asked.

Barry spoke up first. "She would make a fine addition to the team, sir. Her reaction time is unparalleled by anyone else on S. T. A. R. S. She finished the test faster than any of us."

Sullivan spoke second. "Even with the missed shot her score is still higher than anyone but Marini and us four, sir. The Samurai Edge is a weapon unique to this squad."

"That's no excuse. Guns sometimes malfunction on the field. In a worst case scenario, she might even be forced to use a gun she is unfamiliar with. Chris, I am most interested in your opinion."

Chris new she deserved to be on the team. He had to choose his words carefully. "She chose speed before accuracy. Until the last round that was a good strategy. I know missed shots are fatal, sir, but I believe she reacted to her mistake quickly enough to neutralize any target that would potentially take advantage of her mistake. Also, she took every headshot she could. If it weren't for the missed shot, I think only you and Marini would have her beat.

Wesker sat back farther in his chair. Chris, Barry, and Sullivan knew that in the next ten seconds, Wesker would determine whether or not Valentine had made the team. Wesker concluded his thoughts with a grin. "Alright. She makes the cut. But Chris."

"Yes sir?"

"You're going to arrive here at 6:30 every morning to train with her for the next month."

"What if she gets used to the weapon and starts getting bull's-eyes first day."

"This isn't about her score on tests. This is about getting her better at making decisions. You can call it punishment, but I don't want her dying her first day on the field. I'm going to tell her about our arrangement. Meanwhile, you are free to leave. You have spent enough of your day off here and it's already earned you an extra hour and a half for the next month. Go enjoy yourself. The rest of you are dismissed as well."

Wesker walked out of the room. "Thanks a lot Barry."

"Sorry, I didn't know something like that would happen."

"Calm down, Chris," said Sullivan. "Look at it this way," he began to laugh, "you've got one and half hours alone every day for the next month to make Ms. Valentine's acquaintance. If I were you, I'd go buy Barry another beer."

"Damn it," said Chris.

"I'm genuinely sorry Chris."'

"Ah... don't worry about it. But this counts as pay back for your half of the drinks."

"That's fine."

There was another pause. Sullivan laughed again. "I still think I'd buy Barry a beer if I were you."

The others joined his laugh.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Jill

Jill stood in the range waiting for her new shooting partner. She had arrived a few minutes early. She wanted to make sure she was used to the odd weight of her new sidearm before it was her turn to fire. She had disappointed herself. An air shot was unacceptable. She had been told the guns would be unique, but Wesker would not allow her to touch any of them before the test. The rifle and automatic were difficult; the berretta was unmanageable. It was too light. Even with the decreased weight, the kick was still as powerful as a normal gun. That also threw her off and made her lose time before the second shot. She could have had the highest score. Now she was sixth.

"Hey there," came a voice, "I'm Chris Redfield." She turned around to see a dark-haired young man in his mid-twenties holding out his hand for a shake. He was six feet tall and well-built. Wesker had told her plainly that she wouldn't have made the cut without his intervention. She doubted he knew she was aware of that, but knew that the awkward smile on his face suggested it was something he feared. She placed her gun in the left hand and shook his hand.

"Nice to meet you, Redfield," she said. "I'm Jill Valentine."

"Is it Ok if I call you Jill or, do you prefer Valentine?"

"Jill is fine. Don't worry about that."

"Alrighty. You can call me Chris."

"Thanks."

"So...uh. Reason you already have a gun in your hand."

"Oh," said Jill. "Just trying to get used to the weight."

Chris's expression became awkward again. It was easy to see he had to tell her something that would be aggravating. "Um...," started Chris, "Wesker wants us to use different guns today."

"What?" said Jill in disbelief, "why?"

Chris had walked over to an armory chest. "He's not worried about your aim, but your abilities with using weapons on the fly.

"Aren't we going to be using the same weapons in every mission?"

"I think so."

"Well what do you normally do?"

"I'm not really sure."

Jill was dumbfounded. "How many days have you been on this team?"

"Officially or days worked."

"Days worked."

Chris seemed to be more and more reluctant to answer with each question. "This is my first day," he finally admitted.

"What are you doing training me," said Jill not hiding her frustration. "Why isn't Wesker, or Marini, or Barry, or anyone else more than a day old?"

She could tell Chris was just as bewildered as her. "I honestly don't really know. I was kind of blindsided by this. In my opinion, you don't need extra training. I think you just need more than four seconds with a new gun before you shoot it. This whole thing is as ridiculous to me as it to you. But I don't make the rules."

"So how did you get stuck doing this? Did you request it?"

"No. I hate waking up at five in the morning."

"Then how did you get selected?"

"Wesker just told me it was my job."

"Was that before or after you convinced him to let me join?"

Chris was taken aback by that question. "You know you deserved to be on this team. Everyone who saw you knew it."

"Everyone saw the test?"

"There were four of us up there and the range is rigged with cameras. Look, I honest to God don't think I convinced him shit. The more I think about it the more I think he likes to screw with new recruits' heads to keep them ready for anything. That's why he has cameras in here. So everyone always thinks they have to impress someone. I'm pretty sure I was always going to have to come here early because he didn't like my shooting either. If you ask me, we were going to be paired up from the beginning. He knew you were going to make it. He just wants us to bust our asses thinking we owe him."

That did make sense to Jill. It was the only scenario Jill could think made any sense. She relaxed. Chris was a nice guy. "I guess you're right. Sorry about getting a heated."

"Perfectly understandable. This seems just as dumb to me as it does you. But let's see what we're working with...holy shit."

"What?"

"Have you ever seen Barry's Handcannon?"

"No."

Chris pulled out an enormous .44 Magnum and checked it. It was already loaded. He put the weapon down as quickly as he could. Jill could not tell whether he was afraid of breaking Wesker's rules or shooting a hole in the wall.

"Barry used to blow up broken toilets with it," said Chris. "I never got to use it. We were supposed to take turns shooting targets. There was never a target after the first shot."

"What else is there?"

"Let's see...there are also an unmodified Berretta 92, an assault shotgun I've never seen before, and more ammunition than we could possibly need. Wait there's a note from Wesker. 'Use in this order: Magnum 20 yards, Berretta 10, and shotgun 5; only headshots count. Failure to hit the target in the head will cause the test to start over. Headshots will not be counted during the magnum or shotgun rounds unless the entirety of the head is destroyed. Thank Barry for getting Umbrella to donate enough money for targets.' I think I'm going to kill Barry," finished Chris.

"At least you finally get to use his gun."

Chris smiled at her. "Somehow he always finds a way to brighten my day.

For the next hour and a half the two tried to complete the test. What Wesker did not say was that the targets were timed to go down if they were not shot quickly enough. Whenever they did score one magnum shot. Another magnum target would pop up. They both realized with horror that Wesker wanted them to unload a full magnum clip in 10 seconds.

Chris had to restart three times before he decided to take a break. His hand was red from the kick of the Magnum. Jill could tell it would be swollen before the end of the hour. Jill did not anticipate the Magnum's kick which caused her to lose enough time after the first shot to start over. She managed to make it to the Beretta round but could not force her swollen hand to switch quick enough. The two then took turns for the rest of their allotted time. Neither of them made it past the first half of the Berretta round.

"Do you think he's going to make us do this everyday until we score perfect?" she asked.

"No. I think he's going to make us do it everyday until we score perfect, and then he's going to change the weapons and make us start over."

"I'm not sure I'll be able to shoot this tomorrow."

"It could be a problem," said Chris raising his hand. He had a Ziploc bag filled with ice held against it. He offered one to Jill and she was quick to accept.

"So what do you think he'll say when he sees we didn't get passed the Beretta round?" asked Jill.

"I'll probably say that you two will be running five miles tonight when I'd rather you be working in the office," came the voice of Wesker from behind. Jill and Chris both stood up to salute; an awkward gesture with their bandaged hands. "No need for the salute. I am disappointed that you did not make it to the shotgun section, but I didn't honestly expect you to make it. Tomorrow, I'm going to give your hands a break from cruelty of Barry's Handcannon. You will get to choose three weapons for preset distances. You will not know the distances until after your weapons are selected. This range is very large, so prepare for variety as much as you can. You can report to my office at 4 o'clock before you run you five miles."

"Sir," the two saluted again simultaneously.

"Now for some truly important news: Next Monday S. T. A. R. S. will be considered active again. Sullivan and Marini have agreed to double as Field Medics for Bravo until Marini comes to grips with Rebecca Chambers being his best option. Now remember: Alpha Team works days, Bravo Team works nights. You will be given a beeper. You must keep it on you at all times. In the event of an emergency with Bravo Team, you will be contacted through it and are expected to report to the Armory room within 30 minutes. Failure to do so will result in the immediate loss of your job. You will of course use sirens to make the commute easier, but I doubt you'll have much trouble in a small town like this."

"Sir," the two said once again.

"Don't worry about "sirs" until we're in the field. Now go get some coffee. You two need to wake up."

"Thanks Wesker," said Jill.

"Don't mention it. Stop talking to me and take advantage of my kindness. You only have ten minutes for coffee."


End file.
